


No Paper in Tray Two

by TheKnaveOfHearts



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-19 00:34:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9409685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKnaveOfHearts/pseuds/TheKnaveOfHearts
Summary: Smith makes an interesting discovery in the print tray at the office...Note: Contains Windows Printer Error Messages! Read at your own risk!





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone!  
> This idea just popped into my head, and I had to get it out. It's un-beta'd, so I can't guarantee no spalling errors nor grammar mistakes.  
> I hope you enjoy, and please leave a comment - negative or positive.

“No Paper in Tray 2!”

Chris Trott groaned as he saw the dialog window pop up in the corner of his screen. He had spent the last 10 minutes fiddling about in the printer properties window trying to get all of the text to fit onto one page of A4, and now all his work was wasted. He knew that it would take at least half an hour to get the ancient, temperamental printer to work out that it had been refilled, and that was half an hour he didn’t have. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was now four o’clock – only twenty minutes for him to get to the station in time to catch his train to Scotland. He needed as much spare time as he could get too.  The UK’s longest train – Penzance to Glasgow, a journey of over thirteen hours – was only scheduled to stop at Bristol for five minutes, and trying to find his reserved seat was always a nightmare. He swore under his breath – why couldn’t his girlfriend’s family live somewhere closer and more convenient than the highlands?

There was no point in wasting any more time. He had to leave now. Pulling on his coat, he grabbed his bag, and headed for the stairs. Poking his around the door of the main office only long enough for a shouted ‘See ya twats!”, he headed for the railway station, hood turned up against the fierce, cold wind.

 

* * *

 

 

Smith had laughed his arse off when he saw the picture Ross had sent him from the sub-reddit. He’d never known that a badly photoshopped Japanese ballerina salmon could be so entertaining. Shaking his head slowly, he marvelled at the lengths some of their fans would go to – didn’t they have something better to do with their day than this?

He looked at the picture again. At the bottom of the Ballerina-Trout’s dress a small, cylindrical pink object poked out, barely noticeable against the many-layered pastel petticoat. Frowning, he zoomed in on the object. It had ‘Smiffy’s Mum’s Dildo’ written on it in tiny letters. He burst out laughing again. He had to print it out, and hide it somewhere on Trott’s desk – a nice little present for when he came back from Scotland. He often did this. It had become something of a tradition. Whenever Trott was away for longer than a day or two, he would secrete some image or object somewhere in his room. These items were nearly always pornographic in nature.

Smith had a funny way of showing his friendship.

He navigated to the printer window, and then groaned in frustration. “HP Inkjet 500 – One Job in Queue”. Why was he always the one who had to fix the fucking printer when it had run out of paper? He allowed himself a few moments of anger, and then calmed down. In reality, the troublesome printer was such a nightmare that the standard procedure in the office was that if it went wrong on your watch, you ran away, denied everything and waited for someone else to fix it. It was a great system, except for when you went to print something and found that it wasn’t working. Cursing his luck, he got up and left the room, rolling up his sleeves in preparation to do battle with the ink-tentacled Cthulhu that was the innards of the office printer.

To Smith’s surprise, it only took about ten minutes to fix the fault. With a shuddering jolt and a waft of an unpleasant, acrid burning smell, the printer lurched back into life. From deep within its bowels came a rhythmic crunching sound as the print job finally got under way. Smith punched the air triumphantly, and stood waiting for the Ballerina-Salmon to emerge in all its perverse glory. Then he frowned. Instead of the half-naked dancing fish that he expected, what escaped from the jaws of the mechanical beast was a page of densely-packed text. He reached out and picked it up – it must belong to the twat who had broken the printer in the first place.

Smith was pleased: now he could exact his revenge! He was already planning out an account of an hour-long, epic battle with the printer – hopefully he could guilt-trip whoever was responsible for the fault into buying him a burger after work. His stomach rumbled in anticipation. He hadn’t eaten for at least fifteen minutes!

He inspected the sheet of paper in his hands. At the top of it was a title: “How to Talk to Your Partner About Threesomes”. Smith did a double take. What? He read it again, and as he did a happy smile spread across his face. This was proper manipulation material! He could get at least two burgers out of this, and it would provide material for jokes for at least the next month! Excited, he quickly checked the print jobs history from the computer on the other side of the room. The last item before his had been sent an hour beforehand – by none other than Chris Trott.

“Oh Trout. You kinky little fucker!” Smith murmured, as a huge shit-eating grin emerged onto his face. This was pure gold. Behind him, the Ballerina-Salmon image dropped into the print tray. The next week was going to be very entertaining.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> There may be a second chapter, but I'm not making any promises.  
> Hope you enjoyed,  
> The Knave


End file.
